CHAPTER 13
Farah woke in the middle of the night with fear clutching at her heart. What had become of Jason's papers? His file cabinets had been taken from the ruins and stored in the garage. They were all fireproof, but when Jason was working on a project he spread his papers all around and was sometimes careless about putting them back.
Slipping into a robe, she went to Jason's room for his keys, then to the garage.
He had meticulous about his files. They were all classified and labeled and kept in alphabetical order. She examined all the labels carefully but found not even an oblique reference to aging or rejuvenation. He had been almost ready to publish, and now it looked as if all his work had gone up in flames. She herself remained the only testimony to his greatness. No one else would ever know what he had discovered.
She returned to bed, feeling (what was the word she wanted?) extinguished. She had consented to be Jason's guinea pig on the premise that what they were doing would benefit mankind. Her new life had been bearable, indeed almost happy, because of Jason. Now both Jason and his records was gone, and what had she to live for? A half world where she pretended to be young because she looked young but inside felt like a woman of forty? No, the transition was too difficult.
There was no more sleep for her that night, so finally she rose, showered and dressed, and went outside. As she breathed in the crisp February air she felt renewed, and her depression seemed to slip from her like a silken garment. She was young and healthy and not ready to give up yet.
While she was at breakfast, Jason's gardener, Ned Thomas dropped by to pay his respects. A widower of about sixty, he had been with Jason for years. Farah invited him in for coffee and made arrangements with him to live in the house Mondays through Fridays to keep an eye on things. After he had left, she called the woman who came in once a week to clean, asked her to continue as usual, and told her that Ned would be at the house to let her in.
Next she called Grant Allen, Jason's business manager, to make an appointment to see him about Jason's estate.
"I'm glad you called," he said. "I wasn't sure how to get in touch with you. Would ten tomorrow be satisfactory?"
"I'll be there at ten." She hung up, pleased to be getting all these details attended to.
When told about the missing papers, Hack said, "I was afraid of that. We found all the file cabinets locked except one. A drawer from that cabinet had been removed to the counter, I suppose for easy access, and the contents had been burned to ashes. It must have been Jason's report. What a damned shame. I knew Jason was excited about this project. Something to do with prolonging the life span, wasn't it? He never told me much about his work."
"Oh, Hack, he was almost ready to publish. He had discovered something really important that would have made him famous. I've been through everything and there's no trace of those papers."
"Have you looked for a hidden safe?"
"I've looked in his hidden safe and the papers are not in there."
"Will you be there all day?"
"I'll be here till tomorrow morning." She told him of the arrangements she had made with the gardener and housekeeper and her appointment with Grant Allen.
"I'm glad to see you coping so well," he said. "Who would have thought you so efficient."
"A person does what has to be done."
"Look, I have plans for today. A business appointment made several days ago. I might try to cancel."
"Don't even think of it. You're a dear for offering, but I'd really like to have this time to myself."
"Can I see you tonight?"
"If you want to."
"See you then," he said and hung up.
Farah spent the day writing thank-you cards for the funeral flowers, cleaning the house, laundering sheets and towels, and other household chores. She got Jason's keys and locked his desk, dresser drawers, bookcases and curio cabinets. She trusted Ned, but these were Jason's personal things and should be shielded from the eyes of strangers. In the evening she prepared a light meal, which she ate sitting in front of the television set in the den.
It was shortly after nine when Hack came. He stayed only long enough to drink a cup of coffee, ask her about the files, express dismay at the loss of such important papers, and assured Farah again that he was available if she needed him. Mentioning an early morning appointment, he soon took his leave. After washing the coffee cups, Farah went to bed.
It was raining in the morning when she woke, and the roads were slippery as she drove down the canyon road. Grant welcomed her to his office, a pleasant-looking man of about forty-five, who was beginning to put on weight. He looked so sincere and honest that Farah thought he could have had a great career as a politician. She had seen him only once before, at Jason's funeral.
After expressing again his regret about Jason's death, he got down to business, explaining Jason's investments, which included real estate, interest in several companies, and stocks and bonds.
"I'm overwhelmed," Farah said when he told her the extent of Jason's holdings. "I don't know the first thing about high finance.
"That's what I'm here for," Grant said, smiling.
She smiled back. "And I'm certainly glad of that. But I'll have to learn enough about it to understand what's going on, don't you think?"
"I couldn't agree more. I'll be glad to teach you what I can, and the college has a good business administration course."
"I'll look into it," she promised.
Farah went back to her apartment and plunged into her school work, happy to have her mind occupied. She had some catching up to do, but when this was done the feeling of solitude deepened. No longer was Jason around to give her a sense of family, a feeling of continuity in her life. What really cut the ground out from under her was the knowledge that, with Jason gone, she had no link whatever to her past. She could never again be Donna Harris, and the other Farah's past was only something she had read about in a diary.
She began thinking of herself as Donna again, and this frightened her. I could end up with a split personality, she thought, and where would that get me? What she really yearned for was someone who represented a link to her past.
It was inevitable that her thoughts should turn to Noel. For a long time she had refused to think of him at all, but now she dipped into those bitter memories gingerly, like one testing the water with his toe, ready to draw back if the water was too hot or too cold, and found she could now remember him without pain.
Early in March, Farah was invited to a buffet supper Monica was giving in honor of her visiting brother.
"Don't think of refusing," Monica said. "Jason wouldn't want you moping around."
"Turn down one of your parties? Never. What should I wear?"
"It's not strictly formal, of course, so you can wear whatever you like."
For the first time it occured to Farah that she could now buy anything she wished. She went to a posh shop in Beverly Hills and chose a long dress in candy pink with a full skirt and cinched-in waist, sleeveless, with a high, round, unadorned neckline.
She created a sensation in the shop. The proprietor, thinking her a movie starlet, offered to dress her free in exchange for her recommending his fashions. He seemed unbelieving when she told him she was nobody of importance.
When she arrived at the party a little late, Monica agreed that she looked sensational.
"Am I overdressed?" Farah asked in concern.
"Not at all, the dress is perfect. And I'm so glad you could come."
"I wouldn't have missed it. But I'm afraid I don't know anybody."
"I'll fix that. Sally," she called to a young woman about thirty, "I want you to meet Farah Fuller. Sally is my friend and part-time secretary; I couldn't function without her." She turned back to Sally. "Farah doesn't know a soul. Will you help her mingle and steer her away from the starks?"
Sally laughed. "Shark bait she is, indeed. Come with me, Farah. I'll park you in a safe haven and then you're on your own."
The young people present had all migrated to one corner of the huge room. Sally turned Farah over to a girl called Jan, and left.
"This is Farah," Jan said to the others, and went around the circle calling out first names.
There was a chorus of "Wows" from the young men, and a blond youth who was introduced as Mike immediately moved in on Farah and asked, "Why haven't we seen you before?"
"I'm new in California," she explained. "I'm here to attend college."
"What school?"
"UCLA."
"I'm USC," he said, "but I'm not too proud to date a UCLA girl if she looks like you. Why donn't we cut this scene and look for some action?"
"Some other time," she told him insincerely. "I owe it to Monica to stay the course."
When he saw he couldn't change her mind, he pressed her for a date later in the week. She finally gave him her phone number, wishing she could escape from him. Relief came when Monica announced that supper was being served.
A long table in the adjoining room was loaded with food. The guests served themselves and returned to the other room, where tables had been set up. Seats were not available for all the young people to sit together, and Farah found herself in the company of Jan and two of the other young men, with Mike in a different group. She suspected Jan had maneuvered it to get Farah out of Mike's clutches.
The conversation was general, but Farah felt apart from it all. In situations like this she was most conscious of the age difference. Will I ever adjust, she asked herself for the thousandth time. These are perfectly delightful children, but that's what they seem like to me, just children.
Her attention wandered, and she became aware of the woman next to her saying, "Look who just walked in."
"Oh, wow, said her companion. "Alone, too."
"Cicely will die when she finds out he was here. She's carrying a torch for him, but he doesn't give her a tumble. Or any other woman, if I hear right."
"Can you believe him?" said the other woman. "His marriage on the rocks and he lives like a monk."
The first woman said, "I understand the only thing keeping that marriage together is the daughter. He dotes on her, and she's got some kind of rare disease or something."
Intrigued, Farah turned to see what this paragon looked like, and suddenly it was as if the room had emptied around her. Everything faded from her mind and vision except the man staring at her from across the room. Just inside the door, looking well-groomed and handsome in a tux, stood Noel.